


Know How (To Touch Me)

by marelicarter (padmefuckingamidala)



Series: Accidentally in Love [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padmefuckingamidala/pseuds/marelicarter
Summary: You join your friends at a bar in hopes of finding a hookup--and oh boy, you're glad you went. (Pure smut. Literally. And there will be a part two.)





	Know How (To Touch Me)

Just as Nat had suggested, you two--along with Sharon, Wanda, Clint, and Sam--go out for a reckless night of drinking, grinding, and possible hookups. You know the last part is really only for you, as Nat and Clint are engaged, Sam has a thing for Sharon, and Wanda, well, her lucky man stayed home to sleep off yesterday’s hangover while she partied on. It’s crowded, dimly lit and everyone’s invading personal space. The moment you step up to the bar there are eyes on you, on your ass, and especially glued to the way your cleavage peeks out from your shirt. It’s not a horrible outfit, not really, but they look at you like a snack and not a single one of them are attractive themselves. Nat picked it out herself; you wore high-waisted jeans, a low-cut, scoop-neck shirt and a pair of converse. 

“Shouldn’t I be wearing something slutty if you want me to get laid?” you asked her, standing in front of your mirror. “My boobs look great, Nat, but this is… boring.”

“Boring for people that prefer the wrapping paper over the actual gifts,” she corrected, fluffing your hair. “Plus, you don’t have anything slutty in your closet. This is as good as its gonna get. Your boobs do look really nice, though. I can see the outline of your bra through the shirt.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Yeah. Because I’m wearing a dark grey bra with a white shirt.”

“Hot.”

“Nat, are you sure?” you whined. “I know you’re going to tell me I look fine because you’re too nice, but I don’t think this is going to be a good outfit.”

“Not without a cardigan, it won’t.” She pulled one from your closet, a dark grey and slightly-oversized one, then tossed it to you, turning her attention to raid your jewelry box. “Minimalism is in fashion right now, anyways. You don’t want just anyone sucking on you, you want a high-end man with standards. Those are the ones that can afford nicer condoms, healthcare, and possibly child support.”

Talking to her sometimes was like talking to a brick wall. You slipped your arms through the sleeves and stared at your reflection. It was… it was cute. It was something you really could see yourself being you in. No acting. No pretending. No games, just you, as you were. Nat layered some necklaces around your neck and added some rings to your fingers. You felt overdressed and underdressed all at the same time. The mirror, however, proved you to be alluring.

The music pounds in your ear and rattles your ribs, something you feel throughout your entire body. The red lipstick is almost drying out your lips. Another thin coat of gloss will help, but you can’t bring yourself to dig the tube out of your pocket. Not yet. There’s so much to see; a whole world of opportunity and bad decisions lie in front of you, all around you, and it calls you in.

The makeup is minimal. You can feel men staring at you up and down, grinning at your body and liking what they see, until they reach your face. It’s not bad, it’s just… this is your day off. Working all week proves to be tiring, and after wearing makeup and high heels, you grow tired of looking so polished and professional. So no, you didn’t contour your face. You didn’t have incredibly well-blended eyeshadow, and you didn’t wear false eyelashes. You were fucking beautiful without that shit, and just for once--this one day out of the six others in this God forsaken week--you wanted to be softer and low-maintenance. You did mascara, your eyebrows don’t look like caterpillars, and sure, the red lipstick was beautiful, but even that was pushing it a little. These ugly ass men aren’t worth your time, you decided; if they wanted someone to be contoured and glittery twenty-four-seven, they didn’t need a piece of your ass.

“I can hear your high standards the whole way across the room,” Nat says in your ear, her hand resting on your hip as she leans forward, knocking against the bar counter with a quick rap of her fist. “Two daiquiris! We’re starting out sweet today!”

“Put it on my tab,” a man sitting to left of you said. “And anything you want too, pretty girl.” He winks, a smirk tugging at his lips. The man is well dressed in slacks and a button down, a tie hanging loosely from your neck. Something about him rubs you the wrong way. You, however, appreciate the way he doesn’t roll his eyes at your simple face. He instead gestures to the seat beside him and Nat, one to take chances on your behalf, pushes you into it.

After getting her drinks, Nat turns to walk away, disappearing through the crowd. The man--nameless still--watches her go before turning to you. An ass-man. Good to know. You want to lean forward and flirt. Why else were you here? Before your lips could part, he presses a hand to your thigh and smiles. “You can drink top shelf if you’re confident in your blowjob skills.”

Nope. That’s done. You smile politely as you jump to your feet almost instantly. “Sorry. Small things are a choking hazard and I’m not going to let a pathetic cock kill me tonight.”

Nat would probably be proud of that comeback while also rolling her eyes at the way you dismissed an advance. It wasn’t like you would marry that man, but Jesus fucking Christ, you could have at least downed a shot before he talked about you sucking him off.

The dance floor is just as crowded as the bar area. Sam and Sharon are hitting it off in the corner, swaying with the upbeat music like they’re chaperones at a dance. You can tell Sam wants to reach out and turn the friendly conversation flirty, but he’s nervous and far too polite to invade her privacy in public like that, to embarrass her in front of people. Wanda and Nat are practically grinding out there, and they soon sink further into the crowd as Clint pulls them along with laughter. So, you’re on your own. Or at least you think.

A hand reaches to grab your waist, fingers bunching the fabric of your t-shirt to pull it up to access skin, with hot breath clouding against your ear. You freeze against the tall body behind you. “God, you girls are so damn difficult. If you take it like a champ in the bathroom I’ll give you the ride of a lifetime once we get back to my place.”

“Hard pass,” you grunt, pushing him back and taking off into the crowd. Of course. Of fucking course. You just wanted one night in, but your damn wants and needs started to take over your judgement--what good did that do? You thought you’d get laid but here you were, being followed by a man that probably didn’t know how to find the damn clit, and you had only been in the club for ten minutes. 

Once you were lost in the crowd, you looked for your friends. None of them were near. You could hear the man yelling out “pretty girl” and walking closer in your direction. There probably isn’t time to find Nat, and Sam’s too far away. You glance over your shoulder to find him kissing Sharon--great. Great! It’s good because he’s finally found the courage, but bad because you can’t interrupt a moment like that to be saved by a creep. It took him six months to admit his feelings, this would set everything back too far.

“Just pick someone! There’s so many pretty girls here, I’m sure they’d all have a grand time in bed with you.”

In front of you, two men stand, looking as if they’re scouting. Their half-assed attempts to dance look strange but no one else seems to nice. One man is blond and tall, built and thick and smiling like he could be a model. His friend is another man--not as thick as the blond but slender and probably a reluctant gym buddy. His brown hair is pulled back in a sloppy bun and his several days of scruff could ignite a flame in you. They’re hot. Unbelievably hot. But with how close they were standing, they were probably a couple.

Man-bun guy sighs, turning to instead look at the other instead of scanning the crowd. “Steve, I can’t take you seriously when you word it like that.”

“I’m just curious, that’s all!”

“I’d feel weird being with anyone but you. I don’t even know why this is still a discussion.”

Buff-blond groans, hand extending to pull him back in. “Buck--”

You throw yourself into the middle of them, instantly wrapping your arms around the blond--Steve?--and arching your back to meet the other’s chest. “I’m being followed by an over-eager dude, so if you could fake-flirt for a few minutes, that would be great,” you tell him, loud enough to be heard over the music, praying to God he didn’t turn you away.

“Bucky--”

He leans in, smashing you between them in the process, to talk into his ear. The warmth they radiate is intoxicating in itself. Man-bun is the same height but somewhat thinner, to the point where you can easily wrap an arm around him without stretching yourself too thin; your other arm stays wrapped around buff-blond’s shoulder, and they don’t move apart too much, but instead stay pressed together.

The well-dressed man finally catches up to you. You say nothing. Maybe he’ll see you with the two men, both with thighs thicker than his head, and walk away. But… wouldn’t that be too easy? Instead of leaving without causing any more trouble, he steps closer until he brushes shoulders with Steve.

“I think you found something that doesn’t belong to you,” he says cooly.

Man-bun doesn’t miss a beat. “Is this the douchebag that’s been bothering you, doll?” he asks loud enough for him to hear.

You ignore the way your heart tightens at the name. “Yes.”

“She’s the one that sat down to flirt,” he backtracks. “I offered a drink. If anything, this tramp was bothering me. Don’t go looking for drinks if you already have a man.”

“Lucky for her, she has two,” Steve cut in. “Back the hell up.”

“What is this? Two fags and a whore?”

Steve raises a fist and swings. It’s so fast than neither you nor Bucky can stop it. His fist collides into the douche’s face and down he falls, tumbling like a sack of bricks. Bucky pulls you away just in time to keep you on your feet as Steve flies back after the punch. He doesn’t, however, see the other guy kick out and knock your feet out from under you. You fall and he pulls you towards him, sliding you over the dirty floor on your back, and now you’re in a position beneath him.

“Tell your fucking fag of a boyfriend to keep his fucking hands off of me,” he seethes, hand flying to your hair to hold you in place.

It’s a huge ass fight. You end up with a bloody nose, the crowd parts to watch the fight, Bucky holds you close and dabs your nose with his sleeve, and Steve is screaming angrily at the man on the dirty floor. If only Nat could see this. You wish she’s standing around, at least videotaping the entire thing, but that answer will ever be known. At least not tonight. Security comes quickly and, after pulling Steve away from the douche with property issues, informs the four of you that you are no longer welcome before escorting you to the curb. Nat isn’t anywhere in sight, but the two men walk out with you in tow calmly, something that soothes your nerves.

“I’m sorry for pulling you into that,” you say, voice kind of muffled by Bucky’s hand over your nose. “Both of you. I just… he really creeped me out. I didn’t even get my drink before he started with the blowjob talk.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky laughs dryly, “Steve has a hero complex. Thinks just because he has abs that he can kick anyone’s ass if they’re out of line. We would have been thrown out anyways.”

Steve doesn’t continue the conversation. He’s too busy looking you up and down, investigating you. Almost a visual test. He meets your eyes and smiles, and you smile too, because this is the first good look you’ve got of him. He’s much more handsome outside in the normal colored lights, with beautiful facial features and the shoulder-waist ratio of a dorito. The one turn off? He’s in khakis. It’s so fucking strange to see a god like him, carved of marble and so fucking beautiful--but he’s wearing khakis, a t-shirt, and a navy jacket. “You’re very beautiful,” he tells you.

Bucky groans. He’s wearing jeans, his own sneakers, and red henley shirt that’s pushed up to his elbows. You want to die at the sight of him. You can even see his cheekbones through his scruff and your thoughts go wild. “Don’t pay attention to him. He’s trying to set me up.”

“Aren’t you two a couple?”

Steve nods, but the smile has yet to fall from his lips. “Yes, we are. We’re both bisexual,” he clarifies. “I just want to see Bucky with a woman. It’s different than when he’s with me, or so we think.” Steve pauses to wrinkle his nose. “I guess it’s weird when it’s said aloud.”

“Like I said, ignore him.”

Sometimes, bad things happen. Crazy men want to shove their dicks in your mouth and then they give you a bloody nose when you run and hide. But good things can happen too, like two hot men looking at you practically salivating, their eyes hungry to take more of you in. So what the hell--you were ready to flirt your ass off.

“Am I a possible contender?”

Bucky’s jaw tightens and relaxes, but his eyes are taking you in again, roaming and undressing your body as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you’d like to be,” he says softly.

Steve aims to push his buttons, and it’s exactly what he does. “Don’t be shy,” he urges, “look at how beautiful she is. She’s gorgeous, Bucky, and she’s right here in front of you. Why don’t you tell her how beautiful she is?”

“Steve--”

“Tell me, Bucky,” you find yourself saying. “Won’t you?”

And all of his self-control is whisked away. 

It’s how you end up at their apartment. A quick text is sent to Nat to let her know you’re getting what you came for (no pun intended) before all of your attention is focused on the two men luring you in. You’re eager to follow, nearly tripping over your own feet to keep up with them. Luckily, you don’t have to worry about stumbling for long; as Steve opens the driver’s door to the SUV he owns Bucky picks you up and slides you in before sliding in himself.

It’s hot with anticipation, but it mellows out as you’re welcomed into their apartment. Shoes are discarded but everything seems to stop there. The reality of the situation sets in only to send a shiver down your spine, which does not go unnoticed by both men before you.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Steve asks, discarding his jacket to drape it over the back of the couch. “I know it’s a lot. Probably a strange request. But this isn’t a scheme and I’m more than happy to answer any questions.”

You nod, nervous, but unsure of where to start. “Yeah. I, uh… you want him to sleep with me?” You know you’re pretty but… good enough for them? They’re absolutely stunning and out of your league but it doesn’t stop you from following, from allowing yourself to get lost in the crazy couple.

Steve smiles; it’s crooked and breathtaking, and for a moment, you’re jealous that Bucky gets to see that beauty everyday. “I asked Bucky the other day which sex he preferred to sleep with. He of course gave a kiss-ass answer but eventually said it depends.”

Bucky groans, making himself known as he stands by the fridge and downs a water bottle. He tries to look frustrated. Lust prevents him from his goal. “You’re seriously going to replay the whole conversation for her?”

“She asked a question,” Steve says. “He likes me because it’s not just one type of sex. It’s not always fast or slow, rough or soft, et cetera. But what he likes most about women is how many times he can make them come in one round. He likes how soft they are, how rewarding it is, and he likes pleasing them and being praised. So, I figured, I wanted to see soft Bucky for myself. And you look perfect for the job.”

At this point, your face heats up. “Oh. I… I don’t know if sex with me would be rewarding. I’m not much to begin with.”

“Aren’t you going to tell her how wrong she is, Bucky?” Steve coos. Your breathing hitches in your throat as Steve urges his boyfriend to drown you in encouragements. “Won’t you tell her how beautiful she is?”

Bucky is in front of you in three strides. “It’s not too late to back out,” Bucky says quietly. His hands stop just before he reaches yours, hesitant. There’s a sense of fear in his voice. “At any time, if you feel uncomfortable, you say stop and it stops.”

“You’re sweet,” you murmur. “Too sweet. Are you sure I’m fine? I mean my friends would probably be better fucks—“

“If anything,” Bucky sighs lustfully, his hands finally cupping your face, “you’re out of my league. You’re beautiful. I have never seen someone so stunning before, and here you are, here and allowing me to treat you right. If anything, the pleasure is all mine.”

“How many times?”

“Hmm?”

You’re suddenly shy, with Bucky so close to you that you can smell him. Just breathing him in makes you nearly pool in your panties but he doesn’t need to know the advantage he has over you. “How many,” you ask just loud enough for Steve to hear, “as in how many orgasms are you going to give me?”

“Why? Have a number set?”

A soft smile finds a place on your lips. “No. You just seem very determined and I don’t think I’ve ever had more than one from another guy. I might not last long.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then nose, then the side of your jaw, and let’s his lips suck a bruise into the side of your neck. You can’t help but watch Steve, who watches the two of you with wonder and lust in his own eyes—you’re embarrassed in a way. This is another man’s boyfriend. This is insane. There should be boundaries.

“Everything alright?” Bucky asks into your neck. “You’re awfully tense.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, mostly to Steve. Bucky’s nose is still pressed under your jaw and it drives you insane. So many eyes are on you, devouring you and undressing every inch it can. “I… this is your boyfriend,” you explain dumbly. “ Are there limits on what I can and can’t do?”

Steve jerks his head towards the bedroom, and you two follow. How could you not? The door closes softly behind all three of you, hesitantly she notices; Bucky was the one to close it. His eyes search yours for a moment, to make sure the mood is still positive, which of course, it is. Now, you take in everything. The kind bed against the wall is made up nicely. Mountains of pillows act as a soothing sight, but you have a feeling they’ll be tossed to the floor in a matter of minutes. Other than the small accents and occasional colors the room is rather minimalist. “This isn’t meant to feel like a task you have to get perfect,” Steve says, interrupting your thoughts. “You want laid, he wants laid, I want him laid, that’s it. I’m not going to dictate because I’m not actually in this. It’s you two. Decide what is comfortable.”

“But—“

“What do you want to do?” he questions. “Tell me.”

Being put on the spot is scary. “Kiss him?” you say like a question. Kissing is intimate. Okay, well, so is fucking so you can understand the funny look on Steve’s face once the words leave your lips.

“Then kiss him.” Steve settles in the chair in the corner, his cock already hard in his jeans—he crosses his one leg over the other before resting his chin in his hand, waiting, watching, ready for the show.

Bucky is making work of undressing you. The cardigan slips on your shoulders and plops to the floor, forgotten as Bucky cups your face in his hands once again, forcing all your attention to him. His nose bumps against yours; he’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your lips. It’s so intimate and pure that it takes everything in you to hold it together.

“You never told us your name, babydoll,” he murmurs. Hands travel from your neck down to your clothed breasts, cupping and groping only to slide further down to rest at your hips. “Steve wants a show, he’s getting a show. What name should I be moaning?”

“Y/N.” Words fail you. As you melt against his touch and open your mouth to speak, nothing but silence comes from you. Bucky is a man of opportunity, and smirks at the one in front of him. His lips press against yours—it’s everything you’ve waited for. His kisses linger and leave you lightheaded, which you realize may be taken too literal by the way you lean into him. He pulls away to suck at your throat again, giving you time to search for words. “What do you want me to do?” you ask before you lose all sense of speech.

Bucky pulls back at this point, his body heat leaving your personal space and leaving you empty and longing. Just his touch is intoxicating. “Nothing,” he says sternly. “Your only task at hand is to let me pleasure you.” His hands unbutton his pants to let him step out of them. His boxers, which seem tight and stretched with want, are next to be discarded.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Bucky’s cock is something to drool over. It’s thick, pink at the tip and well groomed, with pubes that don’t look untamed. Before you can stop the words from leaving your mouth, you spit them out: “Holy shit, that’s going inside me.”

Steve laughs so hard he nearly falls off his chair—allowing you to notice how his pants are unzipped and cock is peeking over the waistband—and Bucky blushes in a way that makes the heat in your panties spread. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No!” you exclaim. You turn to Steve with wide eyes, watching as he calms himself and sita comfortably in his chair. “Please tell me he knows how to use that thing.”

“You’re I’m good hands,” Steve chuckles.

Bucky breaks it up before the night is spent ogling at his package. “Okay, okay. Y/N, you’re still very over-dressed, and we need to change that.” Without another word, he pushes your arms over your head and yanks your shirt up, tossing it carelessly to the floor to reveal your bound breasts. The bra did make them look amazing, sure, but Bucky still kissed them as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His lips press against the tops, what could be seen with the bra still clasped around you, only to latch onto the skin and suck.

Your fingers grasp at his bun as he toys with your tits, showing no mercy to any part of your skin he can touch. His fingers remove the fabric with one pinch, to which you happily let slide from your shoulders to give Bucky’s lips full access to your nipple.

“Fuck,” you moan, knees buckling.

Steve gasps, ready to stand up again, and Bucky catches you before you can hit the ground. “Y/N!”

“Is she alright?”

You sure back into a set of worried eyes—Steve's reaching for his phone to call for help, but you can’t quite meet his eyes. “Sorry. I, uh… my boobs are really sensitive. That felt amazing, Bucky, I probably could have came from that alone.” He’s too good and this only fuels his ego, but nothing is said on that matter as he scoops you up and places you on the bed. “You’re so good at this,” you breathe. “I can’t believe Steve is willingly sharing.”

Steve chuckles, phone tucked back under his thigh, but he says nothing. It’s Bucky that captures your attention; his lips latch back on to your nipple to tease, which is something he excels at. God, your vision nearly blacks out at the feeling. A moan escapes your lips but quickly turns into a whine as Bucky pulls away.

“Dickhead,” you mutter, only causing a fit of laughter.

“Don’t worry,” he assures—his hands work on your jeans in the meantime. They’re pushed down to your ankles and discarded in the direction of your bra and shirt, leaving you feeling bare and vulnerable in your lacy gray panties. Nothing could describe the soft feeling of Bucky hooking his thumb through them, gripping, ready to pull down and tear away from your skin. His skin against yours makes you breathe harder. “I need you to say you want this, babydoll. I’m not going any further until you use your words.”

“I want you.” Your words aren’t as loud as your normal conversation voice but he hears you. The panties are tossed to lie with the rest of your unwanted clothes before he kisses up your thigh. It’s wonderful. His lips are like velvet against you, little encouragements to open up for him, to surrender to his touch. You moan his name and let your head rest fully against the comforter.

“I’m here, babydoll, and you won’t be disappointed.”

His lips press chastely against your sex. Sure, you’re aroused, but you’re not exactly dripping and he makes no effort to open you up just yet. Instead, he’s teasing. Kisses are pressed over your lips, to your thighs, to the hood right above your clit, and finally, to the side of your knee, that you still hold in the air for support. “Relax,” he urges. “Trust me.”

You answer in the form of actions. It’s almost embarrassing but you always wanted to do this; you lift your leg and hook it over his shoulder, smiling to yourself as you feel his jaw against the inside. Bucky pushes your other leg up just the slightest bit. You’re exposed now and there’s no going back. No man has ever gone out of his way to eat you out—if it didn’t feel good to them, they weren’t into it. So you only ever had your own hand down there. Your own attention was the only attention down there to be given. 

“Pull back, Buck, she doesn’t look ready.”

Bucky looks up to you with worried eyes. “Y/N? You okay?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I’ve never… received oral.”

“You have a horrible track record.” Bucky kisses the inside of your thigh again and lets out a breath. “No guy has ever gone down on you?”

You shake your head. “No. Is it wrong that I’m super fucking excited?”

Steve and Bucky share a laugh before Bucky dips his head back down and lets his tongue swipe up to your clit. It’s odd at first; the warmth, the wet, the foreign feeling is overwhelming, but his tongue pokes into your core just to circle and slide out to slide up back to your clit, where it lingers. A long moan is drawn from your lips. If you would have known your first time recieving oral was going to be this amazing, you wouldn’t have ever complained about past hookups being stingy.

Bucky knows what he’s doing, which is strange, because his relationship with Steve is obviously well established, and from the way Steve flicks his wrist over in the corner, Bucky’s only used to giving blowjobs. His lips kiss at your clit and you have to stop yourself from squishing his head between your thighs. Fuck, is he amazing. “Bucky,” you breathe, hands grasping at the sheets, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Steve says nothing. Well, when he said he wanted a show, you don’t think he said he wanted to be apart of it. It’s hot to have him sit there and watch you coming undone, silently encouraging his boyfriend to fuck you right. A soft moan from Bucky vibrates against your clit, prompting you to arch your back slightly from the bed, your left hand quickly coming up to rest in his hair. The encouragement causes him to pull back ever so slightly, sucking his fingers into his mouth, and easing them into your sopping wet cunt. It’s embarrassing how wet you already were. Inside of you, his fingers scissor and curl up, hitting your sweet spot in such a way that you gasp and accidentally pull his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “I didn’t mean to pull.”

“He likes it,” Steve assures you from the corner, breaking his silence. His voice is raspy with lust and admiration. “Pull harder, babydoll. Ain’t nothing to worry about.”

With his fingers consistently plunging in and out of you combined with the beautiful assault his mouth works on your sex, it’s only a matter of minutes before you’re a writhing mess on their beautiful bed. Your legs are shaking in anticipation far greater than you’ve ever experienced. He sucks at your clit with such determination it almost hurts, but his soft lips ease all your thoughts effortlessly. He comes off with a pop only to dive back in and flatten his tongue against the little bundle of nerves.

“Bucky, please--please, oh God, oh God, fuck!” It’s so overwhelming that you actually bite down on your hand to keep from screaming. Bucky all but tears the orgasm from your trembling body. You come with your thighs around his ears, his fingers knuckle-deep inside, and the edge of his teeth and lips pressing against your clit. He waits one, two, three seconds--then slowly pumps his fingers in and out to ride out your high. Your legs fall limp on his shoulders.

“You did so good, doll,” Bucky praises. “What a good girl.” He reaches up to kiss you, but doesn’t get further than cupping your face before you stop him. “What? Are you a prude that doesn’t want to taste themselves?” he teases.

You shake your head, still breathless from the beautiful gift he just gave you. “No. But I think you should give Steve a taste. After all, he was sweet enough to share you with me, and holy fuck, after that I am so appreciative.”

Bucky pulls back and slowly, sensually, makes his way over to Steve. You watch as he straddles him and leans in for what is probably the hottest kiss ever. Your skin flushes with heat at the sight of it. Steve is the first to back away from the kiss. “Go finish what you started, baby. Thank you for the taste.”

You don’t know how, but he makes missionary sex something so incredibly wonderful. His body is so close to yours it makes you dizzy. Kisses are peppered down your jaw and to your throat, where he sucks a mark into your breast as he lowers himself to rest on his forearms on either side of you. “You’re just like my Stevie,” he comments lowly, lips tickling our skin with every word. “So fun to mark up. Your skin is so soft. My, my, what a wonderful fuck you are.”

“You’re teasing.”

He shakes his head, lifting your one leg around his waist before returning to his position. “No, doll, I’m simply admiring every inch of your beauty. I wish I could eat you out for hours on end. Would you like that?” he prompts, his hard cock teasing your slit. “Hmm? Would you like if I made you come so much it almost hurt? I’d make you sit on my face and I’d hold your legs so you could never leave.”

You whine at his touch. “Oh, God, you can take me anyway you want, Bucky.”

Without warning, he thrusts into you. Your jaw drops and a gasp comes out, but fuck, it’s so unexpected and good that you don’t have enough breath in your lungs to cry out in pleasure. He’s so big; you’re lucky you’re so wet or he would have easily torn you. Bucky bottoms out as you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him prisoner against your body. The sounds you hear only rile you up more. Bucky breathes heavily in your ear--every thrust is a slap of sweat skin on sweaty skin, until finally, it’s a filthy wet noise that only makes you want him to fuck you harder. The mattress groans, hitting the wall every time Bucky fills you up again, his cock threatening to break you as it pulses against your walls.

Steve’s jerking himself a little faster; all you can see is his face twisted in bliss, watching his significant other pleasure another person, to reduce you to nothing but a mewling mess. Bucky grunts against your ear lobe. “You’re so fucking sweet, Y/N,” he groans. “Oh, fuck. You’re perfect. Fuckin velvet, baby, and it’s all mine.”

“Own it,” you beg. “Tell me how much you love my pussy and it’s yours. Better yet, tell Steve how much you love it.”

“Oh, Stevie.” He bites gently along your ear and you wrap your legs tighter to force him in deeper, but he’s already inside of you as deep as he can go. “You’d love this pussy, baby. She’s such a good girl, taking my cock just for you.” When Bucky pauses, you can hear Steve speed up, jerking faster and panting. His boyfriend continues to tease: “I bet she could fit us both. She’s so lovely, Stevie, you know she wants to please us. Such a good girl. Think you could handle two? Two good fucks? Look at her face, baby, holy shit, she’s close just thinking about being so good for you. What a good little pussy.”

“Don’t stop,” you whine, nails digging into his shoulder blades. “I wanna be a good girl for you. Please… please don’t stop.”

It’s an unholy mixture of crying out,violent thrusts, begging, and dirty talk that rings in your ear as you’re pushed over the edge another time. More of his weight is on you this time as he reaches one hand down to pinch your clit. Your nails dig in harder, deeper, and you can feel your walls pulsating around him. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head as you both come at the same time, so overstimulated and sloppy, a sure mess made on the sheets. Steve grunts as he climaxes, the last out of the three, breaking you out of your stance.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Bucky pulls out and you can feel his cum dripping out as well. You could strangle yourself for not remembering a condom; a kid is the last thing you want and these dudes are total strangers. There’s no chance to say anything before Bucky heads towards the en suite.

The bed dips from Steve’s body weight. He’s still dressed with his cock hanging from his unzipped pants. “May I?” he asks huskily. Those blue eyes glance from your gaze down to your messy pussy, mouth practically watering.

“Of course.”

He’s very gentle as he licks up Bucky’s mess. Lips brush against your freshly shaven lips and he does his best to be soft as he sucks whatever he can from your core. Satisfied, he pulls back and smiles. “You did very well, darling. Thank you.”

“Well,” you begin to joke, “if you ever need someone for a threesome, feel free to call.”

He just chuckles. “We’ll take you up on that.”

Bucky returns with a damp washcloth, wiping you up delicately. The aftercare was nice. Steve focused on picking up your clothes and folding them, setting them neatly on the chair before rummaging through his drawers. “Feel okay?” Bucky asks. “You should probably go pee.”

“Is that your way of kicking me out?” you tease.

But Steve pushes you joke away. “You’re staying. We’re exhausted, it’s too dark for you to go out alone, and we owe you a thank-you brunch in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever the hell we all wake up.” He helps you up and hands you a t-shirt and what you assumed were boxers they had bought in the wrong size but never returned. They look new. “Go do what you gotta do and come to bed.”

Sometimes, life is weird. You have creepy men chase you down because of a drink and a blowjob, and other times, you have two hot men that just want to give you an orgasm. What a weird fucking life. You happily force yourself to pee, get dressed, and make your way back into the bedroom, where there’s a set of clean sheets already in place. The light is turned off and the three of you climb into bed. “I hope you guys can make waffles,” you yawn, turning onto your stomach and throwing your arm over Steve’s waist. “Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight,” they chime in unison.

You’re almost out when Bucky’s voice breaks the stillness of the room, low and gentle, coming from right above your head. “I don’t even think we own a waffle iron.”


End file.
